Wednesday 25 November 2015

Holes

Inside my head
I repeat the nasty
things I heard you say.

Allow them to echo
through the corridors of
who I am.

Though
I know it's the same thing
as repeatedly stabbing myself with
your sword, I somehow
cannot stop myself
even as it tears holes 
in the central core
of my being.

With every reverberation
I convince me
that I am getting stronger.

I rearrange the words
searching for the one which
holds the key to their power
then dismantle
until it is a pile of useless
letters strewn across
my heart.

Breathless, I pick through
the tender landscape of myself.
I match each letter I encounter
with something loving, something kind, something
ME,
then use the new word
to plug a hole.

When I am done I sit back
and see that I am
unmistakably me yet also
stronger and free.

- Vera

Monday 23 November 2015

Blink - Poem



Fragile things can fall and break
in the simple time it takes
to breathe.

They can slip from 
the careless hands 
of a woman, child or man 
and break. 

Some breaks 
can be rectified 
Some no matter how 
you try 
they're broken... 

from the falling or the 
dropping or the 
careless words spoken. 

In the blinking of an eye 
they slip, they crash, they drop 
they die. 
Then you're left to moan and cry 
their passing. 

Be careful with the 
things you love 
never place them high above 
where they can fall and drop and break 
in the simple time it takes 
to breathe. 

Put them in the 
safest space, 
handle with care 
and watch your pace! 
Curl your fingers 
round it's shape 
for fragile things will 
fall and break 
in the simple time it takes 
to blink. 

- Vera

Thursday 12 November 2015

Fourty-Five




 WOW 45... I Remember when, at 15 I moved to NJ to live with my Aunt and Uncle to ostensibly get to know my American relatives better but in reality to break free from the limiting role my siblings had put me in and recast my role as, not the youngest sister, but as me.

Auntie June and Uncle Kevin seemed ancient back then yet now looking back I they were even younger than I am now.

I never would have guessed that breaking free of other people's image of me to stand in the light of the truth of who I am would become a lifelong journey.

At 45 life is an interesting mix of predictability and beautiful surprises. I am grateful for the people I am surrounded by; for every moment I have spent mothering, friending, cooking, cleaning, driving, teaching, learning and loving.

I used to think that I gave too much of my time and attention to causes and people who didn't deserve it, now I realize that few of us (me included) deserve the mercy and grace others extend.

I used to believe the choices my kids make should reflect the values I instilled, now (thanks Zoe, Antonios, Miles and Athena) I insist that their choices reflect who they are and who they want to be in this world.

I used to suppress the part of me that wanted to connect with God, now I actively seek out and pay attention to the Divine.

At 45 I am old enough to know that freedom is more about the ability to be who you are than the ability to go where you want.

Until I sit down to capture a moment, create a poem, or offer encouragement and support, my 15-year-old self would hardly recognize this me. A me who willingly admits to not having the answers; who makes the bed even before leaving the bedroom; who has learned to celebrate as vigorously as she grieves; who doesn't need to hide her tears; who voices her opinions and who actively explores her spirituality. A me who has learned that no matter what the problem is, love is usually the answer; who belongs wherever I choose to find common ground (there is always common ground). A me who believes you can never be grateful enough for the gift of life - regardless of its condition; as long as you are alive  you have something to offer.

If I have 45 more years or a day I want to spend my time accepting and loving and perhaps putting a few more words on paper because there are always more words.

Thursday 5 November 2015

Rising - Poem


I lay down my head to go to sleep
and all the secrets my heart keeps
floated up in to my head
causing me to think instead.

First came joys that I have felt
then pain with which I haven't dealt
I faced the wrongs that I made right
then the ones I hide from sight.
the ones that cause the greatest pain
the ones I hide from guilt and shame.

The sheets grew wet with falling tears
for all the scars that my soul bears
then in the deepest darkest hour
gratitude, with all her power
showed me all the lessons learned
showed me all the badges earned.

By the time the day had come
I accepted those few some
regrets that I will carry 'round
as burdens that I can't lay down.

I blinked against the ended night
my heart and mind had both grown light
like the dark, my work was done
my heart re-packed before the sun
had finished lighting up the sky.
At least today if I should die
I'd do it with a whole-ish heart
for falling down is only part
of
Rising.


- Vera



Tuesday 3 November 2015

Reaction



One seed
burst forth from
one ground
producing one plant
yet
clinging to one stalk
nourished from
one soil
fed by one stream
warmed by
one sun
are
two different
leaves
reacting in two different
ways
yet
you expect
me
Who was born from
a different seed
in a different womb
with different
parents
and different
circumstances
to need the same things
make the same choices
and
be the same
as
you.

Monday 2 November 2015

Profound Happiness




This is November? It's a beautiful way for the month to begin - weather wise. Even though my partner was fighting off some sort of bug, we packed up the four kids we had at home and travelled to explore a local park.

When we arrived at Jack Darling we - according to our personality - skipped, walked and ambled along the path. A path which changed from cinder to wooden planks to asphalt as it wound through trees and over or around the water.

All the while, to the left Lake Ontario beckoned with its rushing waves and strip of beach.

Though we made it past the first playground, our seven year old made sure we didn't make it past the second by breaking free from our small pack and rushing toward it. One by one the other kids followed, until we were left to enjoy a moment of quiet aloneness on the path - well as quiet and alone as two people can be standing 5 feet from a playground infested with kids while other walkers pass by (bliss).

After an hour or so we have walked all of the path that we want. Some of us have crawled across the massive felled trees while others still have been brave enough to climb along the three foot high railings which enclose the wooden path.

Exhausted of our desire to walk, we meander to the shore where, as if repelled, we spread to skip rocks, skitter across boulders or in my case fully lay down on the asphalt outcropping where I watch the birds soar through my line of vision in the cloud sprinkled sky.

After a few moments, I sit up and look across the water to marvel at its expanse and its movement on this beautifully mild Autumn day.

I don't know why the water does what it does to me; why it makes me feel alive yet also at peace. I don't know why the sound and the sight start me to rejoicing inside to the point where at times fills my heart to overflowing from my eyes. I don't know why it's easier to breathe or why I want to draw its scent deeply so as to fill myself with the experience as much as I possibly can. I don't know why.

As my partner comes to lay his head in my lap the peacefulness and the joy of the moment coarse through to touch me and I don't care why. I am just profoundly happy.